


Smoke and Shadows

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Melt You Down [2]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It only gets worse. Wherein, hatred hurts worse than loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Part twoooo. 
> 
> Part three is just about done, will hopefully be uploaded tomorrow. Hope you guys like it so far.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I don't _need_ another partner.”

Danny shrugged at him, giving him that slight, sympathetic frown. Mark hated it. “I know you miss Jack, Mark. But after the last debacle with Sam, I don't want you going in alone. Think of this as something for me, okay? You're our best, Mark, and also _my_ friend. I want you to be safe. I know you're more than capable of handling yourself, but please, for my sanity, go with Agent Ash, alright?” 

Mark hadn't told Danny—and by extension the rest of the agency—about Sam being Jack. He still felt sick from the whole ordeal, realizing that his long lost lover was actually alive and out for his blood, hating him for something Mark hadn't even known about. Thinking about him, Mark absentmindedly runs his fingers over his face, thinking of the scars all along Jack's face, neck, and hands. 

How scared must he have been? How loud must he have screamed for Mark, begging him to come and get him? How hurt must he have been when Mark hadn't come for him, like he always promised he would?

Mark bit down on his lip at the memory, losing himself in self-loathing for not going back to him when Danny broke through his thoughts. “Mark. Mark—hey. If you're not up to the job--”

“I can handle it,” Mark said forcefully, through gritted teeth. “Take me to my damn partner. Let's get this over with. Let's end Sam once and for all.”

–

The ride was nearly silent. Mark's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

It shouldn't be Aaron in that seat next to him. It should be Jack. But it wasn't. And if it weren't for him, they wouldn't even be here right now.

“Hey,” Aaron quipped, when they were almost there. His voice was nearly a whisper, as if nervous to talk to him. “I know that I'm not—I know I'm not Agent McLoughlin, and I really am sorry about him, by the way--”

“Don't,” Mark hissed, slamming on the brakes abruptly. “Talk about him. Please.” 

Aaron fell silent. Mark started driving again. It was a good thing the road was empty. 

“I just wanted to say,” Aaron mumbled. “I know I'm not him. But I want to do my best, if you'll let me.” 

Mark didn't say anything, as Jack's new hideout came into view. It was an old, unoccupied factory of sorts, all sleek and cold and depressing. He had a thing for old, abandoned buildings, it seemed. He parked the car, radioing in that they had arrived, and that as soon as he was sure he had Sam under control, he'd call for backup. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, and with Aaron by his side, they entered the building.

–

“Aaron,” Mark said. “Listen to me, okay?”

His new partner looked to him. Mark had decided at this point that he couldn't leave him in the dark about any of this anymore. If Aaron was going to be partners with him, he had to open up to him—about this, at least. Because Sam wasn't like any other criminal, he was one of them—and more importantly, he was Agent McLoughlin. And he was dangerous. 

Plus, upon exploring the building, there were two ways to go. Aaron had suggested that they split up. The place was so empty that their voices could likely be heard from anywhere given the echo, so if they had needed any help, they could easily call for one another. Aaron wasn't a rookie agent by any means—he could probably handle himself as well as Mark could. 

But he wanted to tell him what he was up against first.

“There's something you should know,” he mumbled. Aaron stared at him intently. “About Sam.”

The name was bitter on his tongue. “Remember my old partner? Agent McLoughlin? He—he died, as the agency told you, right?”

“Right,” Aaron seemed skeptical, now. Mark figured that was because he had so quickly shut any condolences about him down earlier. “What about him?”

“Well he's not--” Mark swallowed. “He's not...dead. He's alive. Scarred to hell, but he's alive.”

Aaron's eyes lit up. “Well that's—that's great, isn't it?”

“No,” Mark said. “But—yes, it's great, but it's not because he's...he's Sam. He's angry at me, he thinks I abandoned him, left him to die...”

The memory resurfaced in his mind, and it caused an ache to stir in his chest. He shook his head trying to get it out. Aaron was staring at him worriedly, now. “But what I'm trying to say is—please be careful. Like I said, he's angry, and he's dangerous. He'll have no problem getting rid of you if it means getting to me. Please, please be on your guard—don't--don't let him get close to you. If you feel any bit endangered, call for me—because he had morals before. He doesn't now.”

Aaron nodded slowly. “Alright. I'll be careful. But if he's as dangerous as you say, Mark, you be careful too.”

They went their separate ways, and though the promise was secured between them, Mark couldn't help but feel dread pooling in his stomach.

–

“Goddamn it, Jack. I've heard you for the last ten paces. Get out here and show yourself.”

The moon shone through the wide windows of the factory, illuminating the floor. Some parts of the shadows still lingered, however, and from the shadows, he saw a figure move. Mark swallowed—he had been so sure Jack was behind him—how had he gotten in front of him?

He moved again. But what came into the light made him want to vomit.

_Crack_. Mark's heart stopped in his chest as he gazed upon Aaron's body, his skull hitting the floor with a sick noise. He trembled, raising his eyes to see Jack's partially illuminated form. His face was still shrouded by darkness.

“You replaced me so soon,” he hummed. “And with someone so _inadequate_. He didn't even hear me coming, that's how sad he was.” 

Mark covered his mouth. He was—he was dead and it was all--

“Jack,” he hissed. “He had nothing to do with this. You had no right--”

“I don't abide by your rules anymore!” Jack seethed, venom dripping from his voice. “You don't get to dictate what I have a right and don't have a right to do. I'm my _own_ , you filthy traitor.” 

Mark barked out a laugh. “Traitor? If anyone's the traitor, it's you! Look at you, Jack! You killed an innocent man for no damn reason other than the fact that you're pissed at me!” 

Jack snickered. “You think that's it? That I'm _pissed_ at you? No, Mark. I'm absolutely _livid_. I _hate_ you. You ruined me. You turned your back on me. I'll _never_ forgive you. He just happened to get in the way, that's all.”

Mark glared. Jack finally stepped into the light. He was wearing his mask again, but he quickly took it off, tossing it to the side. This time, Mark didn't recoil. Jack seemed impressed. He gazed down at the dead Aaron with mild amusement. 

He spat out, “So what is it that you want, Jack? Do you want to kill me, is that it?” 

Jack was silent. Mark pulled the gun from his belt and threw it at him. Unsurprisingly, Jack caught it, but with a little bit of difficulty, it seemed. Only now did Mark notice the slight twitch in his hand. Nerve damage. Must be from the fire. That would explain why--

Why he missed. Mark had thought a sliver of mercy went through him when the bullet had whizzed past his hair. But no. He had missed on accident.

He swallowed. Jack glared back, but the gun remained still in his fingers. 

Mark stepped forward. Jack didn't move. He pulled the gun from Jack's fingers and cocked it, before he pressed it back into his hand. “Go on, then. Kill me, Jack. If that'll make you happy, I'll let you. Go on. Pull the trigger.”

Jack didn't speak. His eyes glanced between the gun and then back to Mark's face. Growing irritated, Mark grabbed his hands and forced him to press the barrel of his gun to his forehead, his fingers gingerly grazing the scarred skin of his former lover. “Do it, Jack.”

His silence was overbearing. Jack let out an irritated growl as he hauled the gun across the room, right past Mark's head. He didn't even flinch. “Don't tell me what to do, Mark.”

“I'm don't want to play this game with you,” Mark hissed. “Can't shoot the gun? Here, let me help.”

Grabbing Jack's hands, he pressed his fingers around his neck, to where Jack could easily strangle him if he applied any sort of pressure. “There. Now you don't have to worry about missing. Kill me, Jack, go on.”

“Are you so eager to die?” Jack asked haughtily. “What, do you feel guilty? Is your conscience weighing on you too much? Do you feel _guilty_ about leaving me to the smoke and shadows?” 

“Living in a world without you was the worst thing I had to do,” Mark whispered. “I hated myself every single day for not being able to save you. I swear, Jack, if I had known you were still alive, I wouldn't have left that building. All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. So if killing me will make you happy, just fucking _do it_.” 

Jack fell silent again. His eyes pierced into him, made his skin crawl. Mark waited for his grip to tighten, for Jack to end it, to cut off his circulation entirely and allow him to collapse. Living in a world without Jack had been painful—living in a world where Jack hated him was possibly worse.

Perhaps this would be better. He closed his eyes.

But Jack pulled his hands away. 

Mark opened his eyes again, and Jack took a moment to look mournful before he grinned, twisted and malicious.

“No,” Jack cooed. “No, I don't want to kill you. It's not fair that I have to live in _constant_ agony, have to live in _constant_ pain, from the damage you caused me. It's not fair I'm here, suffering every damn day, while you get the sweet release of death. It hurts you more that I hate you, doesn't it? I can see it in your fucking eyes.”

He laughed, his voice shrill. “I'm gonna make you live. I'm gonna make you suffer. I want you to _suffer_ for what you did to me.” 

Jack's gaze hardened, then his smile returned as he glanced down at Aaron's lifeless form. “I'll see you around, Mark. And next time, don't bring a partner.”

Mark trembled, letting his old love walk away again, back into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
